


The Devil's Luck

by MemoryDragon



Category: DC Extended Universe, DCU
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Trinity - Freeform, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemoryDragon/pseuds/MemoryDragon
Summary: Valentines Day is one of Bruce's least favorite holidays.  It definitely wasn't the day he wanted to die on, but life never seemed to go his way.
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman) & Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Diana (Wonder Woman)/Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	The Devil's Luck

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own the DCEU, nor do I make any claim to.  
>  **Warnings:** Bruce gets a bit cranky after nearly dying, but I think that's about it for this fic?  
>  **Thanks:** Many thanks to Nar for betaing. It's been a while, but hey, I posted it eventually?  
>  **Notes:** So, ah, this was actually written two years ago for the swb server fest, but I took it down from the server when it didn't seem like anyone was interested and promised to post it the next year. Except last year my dear country of residence started a crackdown on vpns on the 14th, and by the time it was back up and I could get on ao3, I'd completely forgotten. Still, better late than never? It's not much since it was actually supposed to be much shorter, but have at.

"Gentlepeople of the planet Earth's top 1%!" Mongul said, spreading his arms wide in a true showman fashion. The crowd around him gasped and put as much space between them and the alien as they could. "I bring you all a Valentine's Day gift!"

There was a blinding flash of light. Bruce waited for his eyes to adjust before moving, but he pressed the button on his watch to call the League first. Diana and Clark were supposed to be handling Mongul's so-called "Warworld" off-planet, but...

His eyes finally adjusted and saw two cages. One was green, holding a gasping Superman in great pain, pale and sickly against the glowing bars. The other held Wonder Woman, chained with electrical currents that had her gritting her teeth. Between them was a machine that looked like a death trap with two buttons in its middle. Bruce's throat constricted, anxiety coiling in his stomach.

Clark and Diana were compromised. He twisted his watch again, signalling extreme emergency, pushing aside the feeling he didn't want to name.

"I have captured two of your greatest heroes, and only one will leave their cage alive!" Mongul continued, a flying camera following him as he moved. The crowd was murmuring, and Bruce made his way towards the front of the group. He had the feeling he'd only get one chance at this, and there was no time to change. "With the click of a button, one of you will get to choose the survivor and maybe even get a date! Of course, one of the two buttons will also kill the person pressing it, so choose wisely."

There wasn't time. He couldn't afford to let someone else take the chance.

"I'll give you ten minutes to decide-"

"I'll do it," Bruce said, pitching his voice to carry.

"It's rude to interrupt the host," Mongul said he walked forward. The crowd gave way, but Bruce held his ground. "But let's hear more about our volunteer for the folks at home."

Bruce strode towards the machine, ignoring Mongul and his usual camera-ready persona. He wasn't going to give Mongul better ratings if he could help it, though he didn't know how this was supposed to fit into what he'd read of the planet's famed gladiatorial conflicts, he knew the flying cameras were meant to intimidate. It was bad enough that the alien had somehow brought Clark and Diana _here_ of all places, to a charity ball for his least favorite holiday. "I just press one of the buttons?" Bruce asked, putting his hand into his pocket. His fingers connected with a long, thin battery Lucius had tossed him this morning in the office, saying it sadly wasn't commercially viable. It was something Bruce Wayne could actually have on him, not that he'd survive to see the fall out.

"Yes, indeed. A press of the button will free one of the heroes. But, sir, choose wrongly, and you'll trade your life for one of theirs! There's a cage beneath your feet that will release a poison and give you a long and _painful_ death. We want to give the folks at home a good show, after all," he said, gesturing to the cameras as the crowd murmured uneasily. "Want to change your mind? Or take a minute to deliberate which button to choose? I've been studying what passes for entertainment in this world, and we could take a crowd vote."

Bruce always figured he'd die as the Bat lying in one of Gotham's gutters. He hadn't expected to die as Bruce Wayne, but he could make do, even if dying on Valentine's Day irked him to no end. He knew the voltage of the battery in his hand. It would hopefully be enough to short-circuit the machine, setting Clark and Diana free. It would also probably fry him alive.

He looked at Diana, whose eyes were wide as she shook her head. She pulled at the chains, but they wouldn't budge. Then he looked at Clark, who was grasping at the Kryptonite bars, trying uselessly to break them as he gasped out "Br-Mr. Wayne, _don't_." They wouldn't last much longer like this, regardless of what Mongul said. For a moment, the coil in his stomach was almost enough to unbalance him.

Bruce would lay down his life to protect anyone. He'd nearly done so countless times in the past. But those two... They were _worth_ dying for. It was personal on a level deeper than Bruce could have thought possible, not since Jason's death.

"I've made my choice," Bruce said, smiling up at the two of them. He wasn't the Bat at the moment, so it was the least he could do. He hoped it was reassuring. He palmed the battery, flicking the top of it off. As the electric current started to race through his body, he pressed it down on the machine.

* * *

His body felt like it was on fire, and a heart monitor was beating softly. He wasn't in the cave or Leslie's clinic, which was odd in itself. Trying to open his eyes, Bruce found even _that_ hurt.

"Easy, Bruce," a soft voice said. Alfred. He must be in trouble if Alfred used his first name.

"What..." he managed, finally forcing his eyes open.

"You're in Gotham General, because you electrocuted yourself on public television. Please try not to do that again, if you don't mind. It was not something I enjoyed watching."

Well that explained a few things. As memories started filtering in, he tried to sit up. "Diana and Clark-"

"Are fine," Alfred said with a small huff. "Though unhappy with your stunt. Barry and Victor arrived shortly after and helped them over-power Mongul and stopped the invasion. I hear _stalling_ is a good technique. Perhaps you should try it next time."

Wincing also hurt, as it turned out.

"According to the doctors," Alfred continued, "you'll probably have some scarring on your hand, but otherwise the burns should heal. The press is torn between it being a miracle or you having the devil's luck."

The devil's luck was more likely and both of them knew it. The battery hadn't been as powerful as he and Lucius had initially thought, but it was still thankfully good enough to free Diana and Clark, and that was what mattered. "It feels like my body is on fire," Bruce muttered, then groaned.

"That would be the nerve damage," Alfred said. "From electrocution. On public television."

Yeah, he wasn't going to live this one down any time soon. He looked over at Alfred, who was smiling neutrally. Bruce wasn't fooled. "How bad?"

"The doctors were very impressed you could withstand such a high voltage. It was like you've electrocuted yourself enough times that your body has built up some resistance. Which is ridiculous, of course." Alfred said instead. "Though I hear Superman was offering some Kryptonian technology that should help with the worst of the nerve damage. He's also agreed to let Wayne Enterprises study the tech to reverse engineer. Very thoughtful of him. The doctors were waiting for you to wake up first to see how bad it would be."

Bruce sighed, ignoring the pain in his lungs as he resigned himself to endless hours of snippy British passive-aggression. All things considered, he probably deserved it.

Alfred carded his hand through Bruce's hair before returning to holding his hand, which Bruce couldn't feel very well but was still reassuring. Despite Alfred's calm demeanor, it must have been really touch-and-go, because Alfred was not a demonstrative man by nature. It was like he was reassuring himself that Bruce was still alive.

"Sorry, Alfred," he said, earning a small sigh from the man next to him.

"I know you hate the holiday, but next time try not to do it on television," Alfred said, some exhaustion slipping into his voice. "They're replaying the footage constantly on the news. Which is more than harrowing, I assure you."

"Duly noted," Bruce said. He looked down at his right hand, which was covered in bandages. He'd have to remember to use his non-dominant hand if the situation came up again. "It worked, didn't it?"

"I'd feel better if you had expected to live through it," Alfred said, his eyes soft and broken in a way Bruce knew was his fault, and he hated the part of him that came up with new and inventive ways to put that look on Alfred's face.

"Of course," Bruce lied. The grip on his hand tightened enough for Bruce to feel it, and he knew the lie had been caught. He'd never been very good at lying to Alfred.

They sat in silence long enough that Bruce thought the matter dropped. He was nearly dozing again despite the pain, when Alfred spoke again, his voice once again steady and calm. "Master Grayson is handling the PR circus, but he should be back shortly."

Bruce flinched, which hurt more than wincing. "Dick is here?" Dick hadn't been on speaking terms with him for over a year.

"Your heart stopped."

"Oh." There was probably a more eloquent response to that, but he was in pain and going to have to face his estranged son.

He didn't ask how long his heart had been out. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"I'll let him know you've woken up," Alfred said, almost cheerfully. "Happy belated Valentine's Day, sir."

It was better than having to face Diana and Clark, but only just.

* * *

He and Dick had an uneasy truce as he recovered, which made him tempted to send a fruit basket to whatever intergalactic prison the League had thrown Mongul in. That, however, would really annoy Alfred. He'd never deserved Alfred's patience, and he _did_ deserve the barbed comments, so he mostly kept his frustrations with recovery to himself.

And it was _frustrating_. Even with Kryptonian technology, his right hand twitched without him consciously meaning to and it was a slow process to regain control. The burns were at least healing at a decent rate, and they were going to let him out of the hospital tomorrow, which would improve his mood immensely.

Which was why, when there was tapping at the window, Bruce fought back a curse. He'd kept visitation to family-only for a reason, not even allowing Superman to supervise with the new Kryponian tech, but then, they weren't always the best at following rules.

Alfred merely opened the window and left, saying he'd leave them to it. Traitor.

Diana poked her head in first, followed by a bouquet of flowers and Clark. Neither of them could quite look him in the eye. They were both in full costume, which was probably just as well. It was easy enough to explain if someone walked in. He had, after all, nearly died to save them.

"You might as well come in the rest of the way," Bruce said, feeling self-conscious in spite of himself. He was a pretty sore sight with bandages still covering the worst of the burns. Maybe he should visit Harvey in Arkham and ask for advice on dealing with it, as long as it didn't involve coins.

"You... have a teddy bear," Clark said intelligently as he helped Diana through the window.

Bruce looked down at his "Bat-bear" sitting beside him on the bed. "My son's sense of humor," he said. Alfred would refuse to get rid of it and Bruce could admit to himself that he was a little charmed by the bear. But only to himself.

Diana set the flowers on the table next to him silently, her hand trembling. She looked pale; they both did. They finally looked him over, blue and brown eyes marking each bandage. This was why Bruce had been trying to put this meeting off until _tomorrow_ , where a bit of make-up and the shadows of the cave could hide the worst of it. He had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at them for ruining his plan.

"Bruce," Clark said helplessly, looking between him and Diana, finally settling on the teddy bear since he lacked a more neutral option. For a man who worked with words for a living, he seemed to be at a loss for them now.

"You should not have done that," Diana said. There probably would have been anger to her words if she had managed to speak a little louder.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," Bruce said, frowning as his fingers twitched.

"You nearly _died_ , Bruce." _There_ was the anger her earlier statement had been lacking.

"Diana, we said-"

" _You nearly died_. Clark and I could have handled things until the others arrived. You should never have done that!"

Except they had been _completely_ incapacitated, and from the looks Clark was giving her, they both knew it. Bruce shrugged, ignoring the tingling from his arm. "What can I say, you two were the belles of the ball and my heart stopped when I saw you."

" _Don't joke_." This time it was Clark speaking, a haunted look on his face that didn't belong there considering all Bruce had done to him when they had first met. "I heard..." he broke off, closing his eyes. "I heard your heart _stop_ , Bruce."

"It was fine. I had a plan," Bruce snapped. He wasn't necessarily pleased with all the photos online of Superman giving him CPR until the medics arrived, though he supposed he should be grateful. _Next time, don't do it on public television,_ his inner Alfred reminded him traitorously.

"Did that plan include you surviving?" Diana asked, throwing her hands in the air.

"Of course."

Diana _looked_ at him, then at the lasso tied around her waist, the threat implicit. "Probably," Bruce amended. "I did what had to be done."

"No, Bruce," she said, her hands punctuating her words as they only did when she was upset. "You should have waited for the League. That's why we have a _team_. One _you_ put together, for Hera's sake! You could have waited-"

"And let you both be killed or risk some other idiot stepping up?" Bruce asked.

Diana looked down, and her breathing was faster than it should be. He was surprised by the tears in her eyes. They didn't fall, but they put a sick feeling in his stomach. He didn't want her to cry over him. "You were the one who asked me to open up again, Bruce. I can't..."

"We live dangerous lives, Diana," Bruce said coldly. "That won't and hasn't changed."

"It wasn't Batman that nearly died," Clark interjected quietly.

The words hung in the air, and Bruce looked away. He ran his good hand through his hair and tried to rein in his temper. It wasn't doing them any good.

"We came here to thank you," Clark said, swallowing. "For saving us. You... gave everyone a scare, that's all."

The irony that Clark had become the mediator between them when it had been him and Bruce at each other's throats the night before Superman died wasn't lost on Bruce. His fingers twitched again and he _hated_ that he wasn't in complete control yet. None of this was going the way he had planned this encounter.

Diana slipped into Alfred's chair, taking his good hand between hers. "Yes. I'm sorry, I... Thank you, Bruce," she said, nearly choking on the words.

Their thanks were almost worse than their anger, though for different reasons. "I'd have done it for anyone," he said, and regretted the words immediately.

"You did it for _us_ ," Clark said, hesitantly perching on the other side of the bed. He laid his hand on Bruce's ankle, rubbing it softly. "Neither of us are used to needing that sort of help. You almost died to give us that help and we..." He looked down at the teddy bear again, close to tears as well.

It _was_ different with them. Seeing the two of them in the cages... He'd compartmentalized, because that was what he _did_ in hostile situations, but that didn't mean his nightmares hadn't been haunted with the two of them since the incident. Even now, the memory was etched into his mind, repeating over and over when he closed his eyes and leaving a tight coil even his anxiety medication hadn't been able to relax. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on between the three of them, and it seemed to be uncharted territory for them too, but it was different seeing them hurt. It was a different _hurt_ that threatened to overwhelm him some nights, and he wasn't ready to put a name to it.

Of course, Alfred had a _lot_ of opinions about what the three of them were, but Bruce had long since learned to ignore Alfred's gripes about his love life.

His hand twitched again and he lost the tentative hold on his temper. " _Damn it_ , I can't-"

He broke off when he saw their eyes. He was familiar enough with guilt to recognize how Clark's shoulders hunched over and Diana's eyes grew suspiciously wet again. "I'm fine," he insisted angrily, wishing he could take the outburst back. It only served to frustrate him more. "I don't need - I'm _fine_."

"You're not," Diana said, bringing his hand up to rest against her cheek. "But you will be."

"Let us help, Bruce," Clark pleaded, his thumb drawing small circles on Bruce's ankle. "You saved us. Let us help you in return."

Bruce wanted to push them away, to say it didn't work like that. He wanted to go back to his lake house and spend time _alone_ that he hadn't had in this damned hospital with everyone continuously checking on him. He wanted his fingers to stop moving on their own without his control.

But they were both looking at him so earnestly. He could feel his resolve breaking apart and slipping through his grasp. They both had this irritating quality that made a person want to be _better_ , and Bruce already knew he couldn't live up to their standards. They were hell bent on trying to help him there though.

"I'm... not in the best mood for company right now," Bruce said, which wasn't the 'no' he'd intended to say.

Clark grinned and Diana sighed like the relief would break her, and Bruce resigned himself to having two extra metahumans at the lake house for a while. He couldn't even bring himself to really regret it, which was troublesome. But Diana and Clark... they were friends worth cherishing.

And if he had to die for them, he'd do it again in a heartbeat.

~Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Mem: And that's that. Like I said, not much really, and it took two years to post, but hey. Soon it will be the 15 and Cheap Chocolate Day, which is the best. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
